


everything happens for a reason (probably)

by CountlessStars



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: 100 percent certified silliness, 5+1 Times, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babe has a serious crush, M/M, that got a little out of hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountlessStars/pseuds/CountlessStars
Summary: Five times Babe failed to impress Eugene, and one time he impressed him without even trying.(Or: Babe has a giant crush and every awkward situation that can happenwill happen.)





	everything happens for a reason (probably)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a silly little ficlet, but _something_ happened along the way and it just grew and grew and suddenly it was 10k long. It did not, however, become any less silly. Go figure.
> 
> (Do I have to say this is based on the fictional characters and not the real people? I think we all know that by now.)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

**1**

When Babe sees him for the first time, he almost dies choking on his diet Coke.

Joe, who is standing next to Babe, swiftly slaps him a few times between his shoulder blades. Babe thinks the last two punches were completely unnecessary, but he thanks Joe anyway, and makes a mental note to check for bruises when he gets back home.

“Holy shit,” he says when he finally manages to take a breath without wheezing. “I'm in love,” he announces to Joe.

Joe snorts and rolls his eyes. Babe ignores him and turns his attention to the young man on the other side of the room. He isn't dancing or talking to anyone, or even drinking—he's just leaning against the wall, watching the party with a distant expression on his face, and looking like he has walked right out of Babe's wildest dreams. Babe's gaze trails from his perfect, slightly tousled black hair all the way to his combat boots and then back up. He feels a little lightheaded.

“Do you know him?” Babe's voice sounds a bit breathless even to his own ears.

Joe looks at Babe, then follows his stare. “No clue. Try asking Lip. _Or_...” he nudges Babe with his elbow, probably leaving another bruise, “or you could just go and talk to him.”

Babe considers it for a moment. He looks around the room with hesitation; searching for some kind of sign or a way out, he isn't certain. Then he surprises Joe—but mostly himself—by pressing the empty can into Joe's hands and walking straight towards the beautiful stranger.

His sudden confidence leaves him as fast it appeared and Babe is left standing awkwardly a few feet from the guy. He looks even more stunning up close, with pale skin and dark, dark eyes. Babe takes a deep breath that does absolutely nothing to steady his nerves and crosses the last few feet in three steps. The stranger just looks at him with a strangely serious face, and Babe feels his whole body buzz with electricity. He clears his throat.

“Hey, I'm Babe,” he says. “I mean, that's my nickname, I'm Edward, Edward Heffron, but everyone calls me Babe, so,” Babe shrugs and flashes a bright smile.

The guy looks straight into his eyes for a few seconds and Babe's heart does a weird flippy thing in his chest. He knows he's grinning like a fool, but he also doesn't seem to be in control of his own face anymore.

“Hello, Edward.” The guy's voice is much deeper than what he expected and Babe's heart does another backflip. It takes him a few seconds to register the words themselves, not just the hypnotizing accent they're wrapped in. “You've got something on your shirt.”

Babe looks down and fights the urge to bang his head against the nearest sturdy surface. There's a wet stain the size of Texas (and the shape of Illinois, Babe notices distantly) right in the middle of his chest. Babe suspects it might have something to do with his near death experience a few minutes ago.

He bites his lips and looks back up. The guy is watching him with a raised eyebrow, like can't decide if he wants to laugh out walk away as fast as possible, and Babe feels his cheeks starting to grow hot at an alarming rate.

“Uh,” Babe says eloquently. He doesn't think _'I spilled Coke all over myself because I forgot how to breathe when I saw you'_ is something that would make this situation any less awkward. He tugs at his shirt—it's starting to stick uncomfortably to his skin and Babe almost wishes the floor would just open up and swallow him whole.

The silence between them stretches until the guy sighs and looks at his watch. (Babe does a double take at that because who the hell wears a watch these days anyway?) The guy pushes himself off the wall in one smooth motion and turns to look at Babe.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Edward, but I have to go,” he says, his voice still strangely serious.

Babe blurts out something in reply. It must be something embarrassing, because the guy freezes for a moment, an amused expression taking over his solemn face. Babe is pretty sure that half-smile is going to melt his brain and make it trickle out of his ears.

After a few seconds, the guy turns his back to him and heads to the door. Babe watches him walk away, navigating through the crowd effortlessly, until he disappears from his sight. Babe had no idea plain black jeans could look like a work of art on someone's ass.

“Fuuuck me,” he whispers and thumps his head against the wall.

-

The next day is a Sunday, and Babe wants nothing but to stay in his bed the whole day, eat instant ramen and watch TV, but Bill drags him to the gym at an hour that Babe finds almost offensive. Babe protests all the way there, but after a few minutes on the punching bag, he actually finds himself relaxing into the steady rhythm and the occasional remark from Bill. (Although if he hears “Move your feet!” one more damn time, he's going to murder someone.)

By the time they finish the three rounds of sparring at the end of their training, Babe's muscles ache like hell and he's barely standing on his legs, but he no longer has the image of the handsome stranger in his head when he closes his eyes.

(For the rest of the day, at least. Because he spends the next four weeks spacing out in his lectures and daydreaming about dark hair and pale skin.)

 

 

**2**

Nix decides to combine his 'just moved to a new house' party with a Halloween party and that's how Babe finds himself wearing his Han Solo costume from last year and drinking his fifth Jack and coke.

Babe is having fun—his body is buzzing pleasantly with alcohol and loud music (even though some of Nix's musical choices are a little questionable) and he spends the night talking to everyone about everything.

He is in the middle of a very heated conversation about European cinema (which he knows exactly _zero_ about, but that doesn't seem to bother the girl) when he feels his vision growing a bit fuzzy on the edges, so he stops the girl in the middle of her lengthy comparative analysis of the French avant-garde and excuses himself. He grabs a jacket that looks approximately like his own and stumbles out from the back door into the night. The cold air slaps his face and he finds himself enjoying the almost painful way it fills his lungs, lifts the fog around his head a little. He takes a few deep breaths and looks around.

Nix's backyard isn't too big, and it probably looks much nicer in the daylight, but for now, Babe hardly cares. A few carved pumpkins blink at him with empty yellow eyes. There's a small wooden bench at the edge of the yard and Babe realizes someone is sitting there, with one knee tucked to their chest. All of a sudden, Babe's legs feel very wobbly and he knows it has little to do with the number of Jack and cokes he has drank in the past few hours. It's the guy, _The Guy_ , that Babe had thought about every day for the past few weeks, the most beautiful person in the world, the love of his goddamn life. (Babe tries very hard to ignore the fact that he doesn't even know his name.)

Babe finds himself walking towards the bench before he even makes the decision to move. He stumbles a bit on the last step and flops next to the guy ungracefully. The guy doesn't acknowledge him much—he only tucks his outstretched leg closer to his body, as if to make some space. He doesn't look like he expects a conversation, but damn if Babe isn't going to try and make the most out of this situation.

He searches his brain for something impressive to say, but the only things coming to the surface are some nonsensical fragments about French cinema. And that's when all the Jack Daniels Babe has drunk gains consciousness and starts whispering into his ear about how speaking to the guy in French seems like a _wonderful_ idea. Babe thinks about his French classes in high school (because he's pretty sure he had learned French at some point, even if he can't seem to remember it right now) and confidently decides it's a perfect plan of action to get the guy interested.

“ _Bonsoir_ ,” Babe says in his smoothest voice. The guy turns his head to look at him. His eyes seem black in the night and Babe thinks his ribs might burst from the inside out and something very loud and emotional will come crawling from his chest.

“ _Ça vaaa?_ ” Babe slurs, continuing his plan. He is about to laugh it off, possibly adding some silly, light joke, when the guy raises an eyebrow, purses his lips (Babe is doomed, doomed.) and speaks.

“ _Ah, tu sais, c'est pas si pire. Mais...ça pourrait être mieux. J'veux dire...depuis le matin, cette journée était assez de la merde_ _et là je suis trop fatigué pour même essayer de m'amuser. Et la musique, c'est pas vraiment mon genre non plus.”_ His voice wraps gently around the foreign words and Babe thinks he might be experiencing a heart attack.

He is so screwed.

Babe's grin falters, even as he fights to keep the smile on his face. “Wh–huh?”

The guy looks at him, blinks once. His expression is calm, unreadable. “Oh,” he says, his voice perfectly even, “I thought you spoke French?”

Babe briefly considers finding a shovel somewhere nearby and burying himself right in the backyard. Maybe Nix's dog would have fun digging up his sorry bones, at least.

The guy cocks his head to the side and Babe finds it incredibly unfair that someone so good looking actually exists in real life. Babe is so, so screwed. He sighs and runs a hand down his face. All the strange dizziness from the party is suddenly leaving him, and the cold night is starting to bite at his skin. When he looks back at the guy, the corner of his mouth is twitching just so. Babe doesn't seem to be able to stop staring.

“I see you trying not to laugh, by the way,” Babe announces bitterly.

And, well, that actually makes the guy laugh out loud. Babe is pretty sure he's never heard a more magical sound. He leans back and enjoys it for a brief moment, digging his hands into his pockets. There's a lighter in one of the pockets—definitely not his jacket, then.

“I'm Babe. I mean. Everyone calls me Babe,” he says.

“I know,” the guy tells him. “You're Edward,” he adds, and Babe thinks he might just spontaneously combust.

”And you are? Uh, how... _tu t'appelles_?” he stumbles over the words, feels the tips of his ears growing red with more than just cold.

The guy's amused smile is the most beautiful thing Babe had ever witnessed. “I'm Eugene.”

“Eugene,” Babe repeats. He concentrates very hard on remembering how the name sounds in that wonderful accent.

“You're not wearing a costume,” Babe remarks, gesturing vaguely towards the guy—towards Eugene.

“No,” Eugene says, slumping a bit lower in his seat. He stretches his legs and crosses his ankles. Babe repeats the movements without even meaning to.

“Why not?”

Eugene sniffs and shrugs. He looks up at the sky, like he's trying to see the stars, but when Babe glances up, there are only heavy clouds, orange-grey with the city lights. Babe looks back at Eugene instead. He wants to keep asking, but Eugene seems comfortable with the silence that settles over them, so Babe bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying anything else stupid. He grabs the lighter from not-his pocket, turns it clumsily in his fingers as he tries to keep himself from staring at Eugene, who has tucked his chin into his jacket. Even so, Babe can't keep himself from glancing at him, trying to figure out what might be going through his head.

“You should go back inside,” Eugene says after a few minutes.

Babe turns his head, but Eugene is looking at his own feet, not at him. “Huh?”

“You're shaking,” Eugene points out, scrunching his eyebrows in a way that promptly short-circuits Babe's brain.

“M'not,” he says without thinking, then realizes his whole body is trembling. He mutters a curse under his breath. Eugene chuckles at that, and Babe might be half frozen, but he feels something very warm coiling inside of his chest.

Babe opens his mouth just as the door bursts open and music floods the quiet air. “Babe!” George exclaims loudly, waving at him and spilling his drink everywhere in the process. “C'mere. Gotta ask you something. Important,” he tells Babe in a ridiculous deep voice in an attempt to match his half-assed Jon Snow costume.

Babe sighs. “You coming inside?” he asks Eugene who shakes his head.

“Gonna stay a while longer.”

Babe stands up and turns back to look at Eugene, ignoring the impatient “Baaabe!” coming from George.

“Okay,” Babe says dumbly. He shuffles his feet on the ground and clenches his muscles to stop shaking. “Don't freeze,” he adds and offers Eugene a grin.

Eugene doesn't say anything—he just gives Babe a brief, tight half-smile that makes Babe's heart hammer wildly as he walks back inside.

-

At three am, the party has mostly died down. Babe is sitting on Nix's brand new kitchen counter, eating his third cupcake with bright orange icing, and watching Joe, Bill, George and Nix lose spectacularly against a guy called Speirs in a game of poker. They're playing with candy instead of money, but for some reason Nix's wallet, and George's phone are on Speirs' candy pile, too. Lip, who is leaning on the counter next to Babe, tells him not to think about it too much when he asks.

While Joe shuffles the cards, Nix leans back in his chair and throws an M&M from his pile at Babe. “Hey! You're looking kinda mopey over there.”

Before Babe can even swallow the cupcake currently in his mouth, Joe says in a loud mock-whisper, “It's 'cause our little Babe is in love.”

Babe immediately chokes on the cupcake, but everyone bursts out laughing. Even the Speirs guy, who so far seemed to be the very definition of poker face, is grinning.

“I could have died!” Babe shouts over the laughter accusingly. He coughs again, for good measure. Lip pats him gently on the back.

“Don't you die just yet, Romeo,” says George as he takes a long look at his new cards, scratching his chin. “You haven't even gotten to the first base.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” Babe grunts. He reaches for another cupcake with a sigh.

“Ah, young love,” Nix smiles fondly and pushes all of his candy to the middle of the table.

 

 

**3**

A few weeks after Halloween, Babe learns from Lip that Eugene's full name is Eugene Roe, he's from Louisiana and he's a med student.

A day (and a full hour of online investigation that definitely _doesn't_ count as stalking) later, Babe learns that Eugene apparently has no Facebook, Instagram, or even Twitter. He closes his laptop and heads to the kitchen to find some beer to help him process that information.

He is halfway through the bottle when his phone starts ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Joe is a dumbass who broke his leg and we're on our way to the hospital right now, if you'd like to join us for a lovely, romantic evening,” Bill tells him in a single breath.

“Wait, what?” Babe sets the bottle on the counter with a loud noise. “Shit, are you serious? Is he gonna be alright?”

Bill sighs loudly. “Yeah. It's not that bad, I think. I dunno. Hell, if I knew it would keep him from doing stupid shit in the gym, I'd break his other leg myself,” Bill growls through gritted teeth and Babe hears Joe's faint protests on the other side.

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” Babe says in what he hopes is a steady, reassuring tone.

It takes him almost forty minutes to get to the hospital and another five to find Bill, who is sitting in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair. He has a coat thrown over his slumped shoulders, but he is still wearing his bright red gym shorts. He looks incredibly out of place.

“Hey,” Babe says, stepping into Bill's line of sight. “Where is Joe?”

Bill looks up at him and exhales sharply through his nose. “They took him to do x-rays or some shit,” he says in a tight voice, running a hand through his hair. His right leg keeps bouncing up and down.

Babe sits down next to him and presses his shoulder into Bill's. “He's gonna be fine.”

“I know,” Bill grunts. “But if he wasn't a fucking tool, I could be home right now, eating pizza and watching TV, but Mr Gonna-climb-all-the-way-to-the-ceiling decided to arrange me this wonderful evening instead.” Bill clenches his fists.

Babe chuckles and nudges Bill's bouncing knee with his own. “He's gonna be alright,” he repeats and tries to sound sure about it. Bill only grunts in reply.

When a nurse approaches a few minutes later, Bill all but jumps from the chair and stomps on Babe's foot without even noticing. Then, when the nurse announces Joe needs a surgery, Bill pales and sinks back into his seat with a resigned nod. He rubs a hand across his face and turns to Babe. “You can go home, I'll wait here,” he says. His voice is strained.

“I'm staying here,” Babe says firmly and he's relieved when Bill doesn't argue and just nods.

Babe manages to sit patiently for about three minutes before sighing and abruptly getting up from the chair. “I'll go, um...find some coffee. Do you want anything?”

Bill glances at him and shrugs. He's still in his coat, even though it's warm inside, but Babe can't find the strength to point it out. He squeezes Bill's shoulder for a second before wandering off in a random direction. The hospital hallways are brightly lit and almost empty. He walks through them for several minutes, feeling strangely out of place, like he shouldn't be here. By the time he locates a coffee machine in another wing of the hospital, he isn't sure how many endless hallways he's passed through.

He searches his pockets for change and buys two too-sugary coffees that burn his fingers even through the paper cups. He takes one sip and promptly burns his tongue, too. Then he wonders if maybe the hospital coffee has some hallucinogenic side effects, because all of a sudden he sees Eugene Roe walking straight towards him. Or maybe Babe has fallen asleep on that awful plastic chair and this is all a dream. That could be a reasonable explanation.

Except it probably isn't a dream, even though in feels like one. Eugene is right in front of him, wearing scrubs and Babe thinks he might just melt into a puddle on the floor for Eugene to step over.

“Hi,” Babe breathes out.

“Heffron,” Eugene says instead of hello, frowning. “What are you doing here? Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes quickly darting up and down Babe's body, as if looking for any signs of injury.

Babe quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I'm alright. I'm here with Joe, um, a friend, I don't know if you've met him,” he attempts to explain. “Anyway. He broke his leg.”

“Ah,” Eugene says.

“Do you...work here?” Babe gestures at Eugene's scrubs with the coffee in his hand and almost spills it.

“Yeah,” Eugene says. “A few days a week. Mostly night shifts.” He fights a yawn as he says it, and Babe feels a sudden urge to hug him and tuck him into bed.

“Are you finishing soon?” Babe asks and tries not to sound concerned.

“Not 'til midnight,” Eugene shrugs. “And then I have another shift tomorrow at eight.”

“Damn. Want a coffee, too?” Babe holds up one cup and almost drops it when Eugene smiles at him, really smiles. Babe's brain just _stops_.

“I'm good, thanks,” he says, and there's something in his voice that makes Babe's heart melt. Babe wonders if it's possible to die from a melted heart—then he wonders if Eugene would give him first aid. “Well, I better...” Eugene gestures vaguely in the direction he came from.

“O-oh yeah, sure,” Babe stutters, “see you around.” He hopes his smile is charming. He has a feeling it isn't, though, because Eugene just looks at him with wide (and dark and _perfect_ ) eyes and nods just once before walking away. Babe keeps looking in the same direction long after Eugene has disappeared.

The walk back to Bill through the empty hospital corridors seems almost dreamlike. He clutches the coffees to his chest, feels the heat just barely warming his skin. He makes two wrong turns and almost walks into a nurse until he finds Bill again.

“Here,” he says, holding the coffee in front of Bill's face. Bill barely looks up, but he takes the cup with a grunt. Babe considers telling him about Eugene, but Bill seems deeply concentrated on one of the spots on the floor, so Babe just sits back next to him. He takes a sip from the coffee, stretches his legs and downloads Candy Crush to his phone to pass the rest of the night.

-

“I'm hungry,” is the first thing Joe tells Babe when he enters his hospital room the next day. Then, “Where's Bill?”

Babe crosses his arms over his chest and scoffs. “Well, I skipped a lecture to come to see your sorry ass, and I'm really glad you're so thrilled about my presence. Very heartwarming.”

Joe just rolls his eyes and pats the empty space on his bed. Babe grins and sits on the edge next to Joe's good leg.

“Bill's working. He should swing by later. Oh, and he told me to remind you—quote unquote—not to do any stupid shit or he'll kill you.” Joe looks unfazed by the threat. Babe glances at the cast peeking from below the covers. “How are you doing?”

“I'm fucking hungry,” Joe grits through his teeth.

Babe pointedly looks at the bedside table, where a half-empty food tray is sitting. Joe shakes his head angrily.

“That's not real food,” he whines. “I want pizza!” He slams a fist into the blanket thrown over his legs, like a sulky child. Then he looks at Babe with wide eyes and tugs at his sleeve with enough force to throw him off balance. “You're gonna bring me a pizza, right? Right?”

“Is that even allowed?” Babe laughs. Joe throws his arms into the air.

“I don't care! I'm starving to death! You're gonna get me a pizza,” Joe tells him as he pulls a twenty dollar bill out of nowhere and slaps it into Babe's hand. Babe looks at it, then back at Joe.

“Right. Now.” Joe's tone goes from demanding to threatening and Babe knows better than to argue that.

“With extra cheese!” Joe yells after him, but it's Babe who receives the accusatory glare of a nurse passing by.

When Babe returns with two pizza boxes, Joe eyes him with suspicion, but as soon as Babe drops one of them onto Joe's legs, he only opens his mouth to stuff it with food and tell Babe about the nurses, the doctors, and the weird dream he's had while sleeping off the anesthetics.

Joe finishes the whole pizza in less than twenty minutes. It apparently takes all of his energy, because and is already half asleep when Babe stands up to leave.

“Thanks for coming,” Joe murmurs with closed eyes. Babe squeezes his shoulder in reply and tries to make no noise as he walks out of the room.

It takes him a very long while to find the vending machine from yesterday and when he finally does, he's unsure of what his next step should be. He's clutching the pizza box tightly enough to crease the edges a little, but he barely notices it as he scans the hallway.

Babe tries really hard not to think about the fact that he walks up and down the hallway three times while trying act like he belongs there. He's about to turn the fourth time when Eugene appears from one of the doors.

“Eugene!” he waves at him, his fingers clumsy and stiff from gripping the box too hard.

Eugene stops in his tracks, so it's Babe who closes the distance between them. “Hi,” Babe says.

“Um, hello,” Eugene says, raising an eyebrow. He doesn't ask _'what are you doing here?'_ , but his tone says as much anyway. Babe's face starts heating up.

“Oh you know, I was visiting Joe and I just, um...thought I'd swing by,” Babe explains, trying to sound casual, even though his face is in flames and his heart flutters when the corner of Eugene's mouth quirks up just a little. Then the brief moment is gone and Eugene's expression smooths out into a neutral one once again, but the warm feeling inside Babe's ribcage remains for a few seconds.

“Oh! And I brought you food!” Babe says, holding up the pizza box. “I brought Joe some pizza and I figured you'd be hungry, too.” He hesitates for a split second. “Is this weird? It's not weird, right?”

Eugene stays silent, eyeing the box warily and Babe pushes it into his hands as he rambles on. “I didn't know if you were a pepperoni kinda guy or—god I hope not—a pineapple kinda guy, so I just got you a plain cheese one.”

Babe sees the frown forming on Eugene's face and he quickly adds, “I mean, I'm kidding! It's totally cool if you like pineapple on your pizza, I can't judge anyone—I once ate cornflakes with hot sauce instead of milk for breakfast, so...” Babe chuckles, but Eugene is still looking at the box with a strangely unhappy expression on his face.

“What? Don't tell me you don't like pizza!” Babe gasps, the horror in his tone only half fake.

Eugene sighs. “No, no. Well. Actually...I'm uh, vegan,” he says, still looking at the box in his hands.

“Oh,” says Babe.

“Mhm,” says Eugene.

It takes Babe a moment to process the new information. When he finally does, he wants to punch himself in the face. Or possibly run through the nearest window and land headfirst on the parking lot.

“Oh! I didn't...I didn't know! I could just, uh, I'll bring you something else! Like...a...um, a salad?” Babe scratches his neck.

Eugene finally lifts his gaze from the box. There's something in his eyes that Babe can't decipher. Babe feels like a little kid, too dumb to understand what is happening around him.

“Thank you, Edward, but it's fine,” Eugene sighs. His mouth tightens in a polite smile and Babe's heart drops through his stomach and onto the grayish floor. “I appreciate the thought,” Eugene adds.

Babe nods slowly. He's about to open his mouth and say something, anything, when Eugene's phone rings in his pocket. Eugene fumbles with the pizza box as he takes the phone out. He frowns when he looks at the screen and picks up. “Yeah, I'm on my way,” he says.

“Gotta go,” he tells Babe with a frown. He pushes the cardboard box back into Babe's hands and leaves him standing in the middle of the hallway.

-

When Bill comes home later that evening, Babe is sprawled across the couch with his laptop balanced dangerously on one knee. There are at least twenty different tabs open in his browser.

“Joe can go home tomorrow,” he announces as he shrugs off his jacket. “I'm picking him up at nine. Wanna come? We could get some breakfast.”

Babe makes a vague sound of agreement. Bill throws himself on the couch, squishing Babe's foot as he lands, but Babe doesn't really notice. “Earth to Babe, are you there?” Bill pokes Babe's leg, the one that currently doesn't have a laptop threatening to fall off it at any moment. Babe jumps a bit, grasping his laptop with both hands.

“Shit! Oh, hey Bill. Ever heard of seitan?” Babe asks, sounding defeated. He tugs at his hair—he's pretty sure it must be standing up in all directions by now.

Bill squints at him with suspicion. “What the hell are you talking about, Babe?”

“It's veg–...ah, never mind.” Babe closes the laptop and lets it slide to the couch. “There's pizza in the kitchen,” he says, waving a hand in the approximate direction.

Bill makes a loud, joyful noise. He pats Babe's knee as he gets up. “Now that's what I like to hear. Thanks, Babe, you're the man.”

Babe only grunts in reply and sinks deeper into the couch.

 

 

**4**

When Babe enters the library on a grey Wednesday morning and shuffles around looking for an empty seat to spend several hours in, he notices a familiar head of black hair in one of the more secluded corners. Eugene is wearing a sweatshirt several sizes too big and he's hunched over a frankly intimidating encyclopedia.

“Hey, Gene,” he whispers as he slides into the chair next to him.

When Eugene looks up, Babe's heart twists. There are dark circles under his eyes and his face is pale, so pale that Babe wants to touch him to make sure he's alive.

“Hey,” Eugene replies and his voice sounds tired, too. He rubs his temple and Babe follows the movement with his eyes.

“Mind if I join ya?” Babe asks, already pulling his notes from his backpack. Eugene's eyes are back on the huge book, but he shrugs and nods, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his fingers.

Babe manages to set a personal record when he pretends to read his notes for almost fifteen minutes before he (inevitably) glances at Eugene. His head is propped against his hand and he is staring at some kind of diagram in his book with unfocused eyes.

“Gene,” Babe hears himself say.

Eugene turns to look at him. He fights a yawn and something warm coils in Babe's chest. “You look tired,” Babe says in a tone that he hopes is gentle.

“I have to finish this chapter,” Eugene mumbles as he angrily pokes the text in front of him. He turns back to the book, his forehead scrunching like he's seeing it for the first time.

Without thinking, Babe grabs his wallet and stands up. “Be right back,” he whispers and hurries through the campus into the nearest coffee shop. He doesn't even stop to think about the things he left in the library.

When he gets back ten minutes later, he finds Gene staring at the same diagram as before. Or, at least Babe thinks it's the same one because he can't tell the difference. Eugene's back is hunched underneath the oversized sweatshirt and Babe wants to touch him, run his fingers along the faint line of Eugene's spine under the well-worn fabric. He shakes his head.

“Here,” Babe says as he sets the cup on the table, cautiously avoiding the book and his own notes. He sits down and turns towards Eugene, who looks at him, confused.

“You brought me coffee?” His accent rings a bit thicker than usual, Babe notices with a manic flutter in his chest.

Babe nods. “It has almond milk in it! Totally vegan and everything!” He grins as he slides the paper cup towards Gene.

“I only drink black coffee,” Gene says. It sounds like a question and Babe wonders if he even meant to say it out loud. Gene's eyes dart uncertainly between Babe's face and the paper cup on the table. He blinks slowly.

“Oh. _Oh._ ” Babe feels the heat rising to his cheeks. Hesitantly, he grabs the cup.

Gene rubs at his eyes and sighs. “Sorry, that was...thanks, Edward.” He closes the book carefully and takes the cup from Babe's hand. His fingers are ice cold.

“You don't have to–” Babe begins to tell him, but Eugene waves his free hand. He isn't looking at Babe.

“It's fine,” Eugene says. “I, uh, I'm gonna head home now.” He pushes his chair back and tucks the book under his arm. He nods at Babe as he stands up and Babe smiles at him meekly.

When he can no longer hear Gene's footsteps, Babe lets his head fall to the table with a surprisingly loud thump.

It earns him a few indignant stares and one offended _'shhh'_.

-

“–and then...he tells me it's okay...but he's got...this weird... _look_ in his eyes...and I just...what...do you...think?” Babe asks George between the punches.

“I think...” George replies, “your left hook fucking sucks and you need to work on it. What the hell are you doing with your elbow?” He smacks Babe's left arm.

Babe is about to show George just how wrong he is when a loud thud echoes through the air—on the other side of the gym, Bull sends Nix flying to the ground with an amazing uppercut.

Joe, who is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall cheers loudly and thumps one of his crutches against the ground in an enthusiastic celebration. George points his glove to Nix, who shows no signs of wanting to get up. “See? He didn't work on his left hook,” he says in a mildly threatening tone.

Babe groans in reply, but he spends the next twenty minutes practicing his left hook anyway. Somehow, it's enough to keep his head occupied.

His mind only wanders back to Eugene  hours later, when he's lying in his bed, his arms and shoulders burning like hell—he wonders how Eugene's cold fingers would feel on his hot skin.

 

 

**5**

The fact that Babe has recently learned that every Saturday morning Eugene jogs in the park has _nothing_ to do with the fact that Babe is currently asking George to go for a run with him on a Saturday morning. Nothing at all.

“Come on, it will be good cardio!” Babe pleads, but George looks unimpressed, even though Babe remembers all of the times George forced him to do endless minutes of hellish rope skipping at the beginning of their training, all in the name of goddamn cardio.

“I ain't dragging my ass out at nine am on a Saturday so that you can ogle your dumb crush.”

“I–I'm not... It's not a crush!” Babe splutters unconvincingly, feels his cheeks growing hot. George's expression goes from unimpressed to very unimpressed and slightly pitying.

“Whatever,” Babe grunts as he sets the alarm for 8 am.

-

Babe regrets everything as soon as he opens the door and the freezing air slaps him in the face. He shivers and fights the urge to run back to his bed and go back to sleep. He curses the weather and steps out of the door.

It takes him about five minutes to get to the park in a light jog. Then it takes him about forty seconds to find probably the only patch of ice in ten mile radius and slip on it.

His right foot twists under his body at a very unnatural angle and he falls to the ground with a yelp. He takes a few deep breaths that do absolutely nothing to ease the blazing pain suddenly exploding in his ankle. He curses under his breath when he hears light footsteps approaching from behind.

“ _What the hell_ ,” a voice above him says. Babe knows that voice. When he glances up, he sees Eugene Roe, flushed pink and breathing heavily. Babe considers the possibility of his heart just suddenly stopping.

“Hi, Gene,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What did you do, Heffron?” Eugene asks in a tone that Babe decides to interpret as concerned instead of accusing—and for a second, Babe almost forgets about the pain.

“I slipped. On ice.” Babe thought that with his face burning red from the cold, he shouldn't even be able to blush. He thought wrong. He feels an uncomfortable heat rising to his cheeks and regrets that he didn't break his neck instead. Above him, Gene sighs. “Can you walk?”

Babe nods, scrambles up hastily and promptly falls over. An unexpectedly high-pitched sound leaves his mouth. He's ready to meet the road with his ass again, but then Eugene is right there, grabbing him by the arm and steadying him.

“I should take a look,” Eugene says as he directs them towards the nearest frost-covered bench. Babe doesn't even attempt to resist and he lets himself to be dragged along.

He pointedly doesn't look as Gene crouches next to his leg and prods at his ankle with cold, careful fingers. He isn't wearing any gloves, Babe notices. Babe is fairly certain the ambient temperature is rising measurably just from his blushing.

“Guess I should stick to boxing,” Babe mumbles to himself.

Apparently, Eugene hears him anyway. “Boxing, huh?” he says. His voice is tinted with something that Babe has never heard before, something between interest and amusement. Babe isn't sure how to reply to that, so he stays silent.

“It's just sprained,” Gene says after a few seconds. His fingers tap against Babe's ankle once, and then they are gone. Babe's skin feels oddly cold, even though his ankle is burning up with white hot pain.

“Where do you live?” Eugene asks, looking up from where he's still crouching next to Babe and Babe blinks, his brain conveniently deciding to go offline.

“So I can walk you home,” Eugene explains in an exasperated tone. Babe tells him, stuttering, and tries not to feel like he's a little kid that got lost in a park. The violent blush on his cheeks now feels like a permanent feature of his face.

Eugene helps him get up with surprising ease. He slings Babe's arm over his shoulder without a single word and their bodies press together. Babe's heart is beating so loudly that he is certain Eugene must feel it, but Eugene stays silent as they settle into a very slow pace.

Babe spends the few minutes it takes them to get home trying to memorize how Eugene's body feels against his—the sharp edge of Eugene's shoulder under his arm, the warmth of his neck in the crook of Babe's elbow. The way their hips brush together a few times. They don't really talk; Babe occasionally makes a pained sound when he puts too much weight on his right leg and Eugene only mutters a quiet “Careful.”

Babe almost misses his building.

Eugene grips his arm just a fraction tighter when Babe searches the pockets of his jacket for the key. It takes Babe four attempts to slide the key into the keyhole.

Eugene helps him hobble into the elevator and Babe almost dies in the heavy silence that fills the tiny space, only interrupted by the slide of fabric against fabric as Eugene shifts his arm that's still wrapped around Babe's waist. Babe feels the way Eugene's arm moves ever so slightly with every breath he takes and it makes him want to lean into the touch.

Babe stumbles out of the elevator with the grace of a newborn giraffe and fumbles with the keys again. Eugene doesn't speak as Babe limps to the couch and sits down with a grunt. He looks around the room quickly and then leans over Babe.

“You should put some ice on it,” Eugene says as he crouches next to the couch and brushes his fingers across Babe's ankle.

“Will do, doc. Do you, uh, want coffee or anything?” Babe offers, still blushing furiously. He feels his face grow even hotter when Eugene throws him a pointed look that Babe can't quite decipher.

“No. I'm good.” Eugene's words are clipped and tense in a way they weren't before and Babe's stomach sinks a little. Eugene brushes imaginary dust from his knees as he gets up. Babe intently watches the spot where he was kneeling just a moment ago.

“Thanks, Gene,” Babe says without lifting his eyes off the ground.

Eugene sighs and nods, then turns towards the door. His running shoes make no noise on the floor as he walks away, and all of a sudden Babe can't decide whether he wants him to leave or stay. His heart starts hammering double time when Eugene freezes with his hand on the door handle. When their eyes meet, Eugene is frowning. Babe's gaze drops to the tight line of his mouth and he resists the urge to throw himself into Eugene's arms and stop him from leaving.

“Don't do dumb shit again, Heffron,” Eugene tells him instead of goodbye and walks out.

-

Babe is curled in a tight ball on the couch, except for his leg that's propped against the coffee table. His ankle throbs with pain every time he shifts even a fraction of an inch.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bill asks when he emerges from his room, well past noon. He never gets up early on weekends and Babe is starting to think he should follow his example from now on.

“Hmmpf,” Babe grunts.

“Babe.” Bill's voice gets closer and when Babe opens his eyes, Bill is crouching next to him, a worried expression on his face. He thinks about Eugene in the same spot as Bill just a few hours ago.

“Went running,” Babe sighs, “didn't go as planned.”

Bill snorts, his eyes jumping between Babe's face and his foot. His eyebrows furrow for a second, then smooth out. “Oookay. Do you want some tea?”

“Hngh,” Babe says.

“I'll take that as yes,” Bill says and goes to the kitchen.

Bill brings him the tea and some store bought chocolate chip cookies. They taste a bit stale, but Babe eats the whole packet anyway.

 

 

**+1**

Babe wonders if it says something about his luck when he walks into a bar with Bill, Joe and George, and his eyes immediately fall on Eugene Roe, smiling more widely that Babe has ever seen him smile. Babe's heart stops before starting again twice as fast, and his legs move on their own. Eugene is sitting with Lip, Ralph and a young woman Babe has never seen before. Babe feels ridiculous the moment he reaches their table, but he still manages a breathy “Hey.”

Lip and Ralph greet him happily, the girl says something as well, but Babe doesn't really hear any of it, because he's looking at Eugene's smile and the world around him doesn't seem very important all of a sudden.

“Heffron,” Eugene says. Babe opens his mouth—to say what, he isn't sure—when Bill and George appear at his side, greeting everyone loudly. Babe doesn't get to say much else and after a few moments, Bill drags him to one of the free tables across the room.

It takes him two beers (and several kicks to the shin from Joe) to stop glancing at the back of Eugene's head every few seconds. George is telling a story that Babe is pretty sure never actually happened, but Babe forces himself to listen anyway, and ignores the pointed look Joe is giving him. Babe orders another beer and pulls the bowl of peanuts closer.

-

It's late, very late when Babe walks out of the bar to clear his head a little. The night is cold and damp and the water from the air sticks to Babe's face and hair—it makes him feel a little more awake. He takes a deep breath, watches the steam forming as he exhales. His mind involuntarily wanders back to the bar. Babe shivers in his shirt and wraps his arms around himself.

The setting fog muffles all the sounds, makes them seem more distant. It takes Babe a few seconds to notice he's not alone in the street.

There are three figures standing a bit farther down the street, talking in loud voices. It doesn't look out of the ordinary, but then one of them takes a quick step back and Babe suddenly knows something isn't right. Babe closes the distance between them in a few long steps and that's when he recognizes one of the figures.

It's Julian, a kid a year below him, who always asks for notes and advice and would probably walk with Babe to class every day if he knew his address.

“Hey,” he says, looking between the men and Julian. “Everything alright?”

It's not Julian who replies, but one of the men. “Yeah, we were just talking to our...new _friend_ ,” he smiles, baring his teeth.

“I don't know them,” Julian looks at Babe and his wide eyes, usually filled with boundless enthusiasm, are scared.

“Aw, come on!” the man snickers and takes a step towards Julian.

Babe moves to stand between Julian and the men before he even knows what he's doing. “He says he doesn't know you. Leave him be,” he says, keeping his tone light.

“Babe, you don't have to—” Julian begins, but he's cut off by one of the men.

“Babe? Ah look, we got ourselves a bunch of goddamn fags! How sweet,” one of the guys snickers. Something heavy and unsettling fills Babe's stomach.

“Let's just go back inside, huh?” Julian squeezes Babe's elbow. His voice doesn't shake, but Babe hears the nervousness anyway. Julian takes a step to the side.

“Oh no, no, no,” the taller one says, slamming his hand against the wall next to Julian. He leans closer. “Your _boyfriend_ can go. But you are going to stay right here.”

Babe's fists clench at his sides. “What do you think you're doing?” he asks through his teeth. The damp night air suddenly feels very heavy.

“I'm telling you to fuck right off,” the man says and swings his fist at Babe.

The first punch, Babe doesn't even feel. The guy swings his hand too widely and his fist slides down Babe's jaw.

The second punch catches Babe in the nose. Stars dance across his vision. He feels something trickling down his mouth. Distantly, he wonders if his nose is broken. Then he hears Julian gasp harshly as one of the men punches him and Babe's blood boils.

He throws one punch, then another, and receives one more in return. With the taste of blood on his tongue, Babe takes a breath and _focuses._

Babe kicks the back of the tall guy's knee and throws him off balance—enough so that Babe's next punch sends him stumbling to the ground with a startled sound.

“Fuck you,” the other man yells and clumsily throws himself at Babe with full force. Babe sidesteps and manages to get around him. He uses his whole body weight to tackle him into the wall. The man snarls at Babe with anger, but Babe slams his fist into his side once, twice, before the guy yelps.

The tall one grunts, slowly picking himself off the ground. Babe grabs the smaller guy by his jacket, spins around and pushes him away. The guy stumbles and both men fall into a heap.

“What the fuck?” one of them yells as they push at each other, trying to untangle themselves. The smaller guy jumps up hastily, kicking the other one in the face in the process. He doesn't even look at Babe as he runs away, stumbling over his own feet.

“Asshole,” the tall guy spits in Babe's direction before rushing in the same direction as the other one. Babe watches him until he disappears into one of the side streets. He takes a deep breath, then another one. After a few seconds he realizes his fists are still painfully clenched at his sides. It takes him several tries to uncurl his fingers—he feels like his body doesn't belong to him, even though he feels the skin of his knuckles sting sharply, the blood trickling from his nose and down, seeping into his shirt.

“Shit. Dude. Wow. Damn,” Julian mumbles, breaking the silence. He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a shaky breath. “T-thanks, I suppose.”

The adrenaline is slowly leaving Babe's body and he feels his knees getting a bit shaky. The night around him suddenly feels very unsteady. “Are you good?” Babe asks as he flops down on the curb gracelessly. The ground is cold and damp, but it makes the world stop spinning so fast.

“Yeah, yeah, uh, I think so?” Julian replies. Every word comes out as a question. He doesn't _look_ hurt, though, and Babe allows himself to relax a bit.

“Good,” Babe says and leans forward to let the blood pour freely from his nose.

 It can't be more than a minute or two when the bar's door swings open and George, Bill and Joe tumble out, laughing. For a second, the street fills with the noise of conversations and music and clinking glasses, and the night feels almost normal again. But then the door slowly closes and Babe is sitting on the ground with bruised knuckles and blood on his face. They look at him with wide eyes, smiles frozen in place.

“What the fuck,” says Joe around the unlit cigarette in his mouth.

“Holy shit Babe, are you good? You're bleeding! Fuckin' hell,” Bill drops to his knees next to Babe, his eyes on the blood dripping down Babe's chin.

“No, I'm good, 'm fine,” Babe mumbles.

“What the hell happened here?” Joe asks, clutching Babe's shoulder tightly.

“Some fuckheads tried to beat him up,” Babe points at Julian, who has his arms wrapped around himself. His eyes are darting around uncertainly and he looks even younger than usual. Babe clenches his fists.

“What? Why? Fuck. Should we call the police?” George says, already taking his phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Don't,” Julian squeals, taking a step forward and they all turn to look at him. “ _Please_.”

Bill frowns at him. “You sure?”

“Y-yeah,” Julian breathes. “U-unless you want to?” he looks in Babe's direction and looks relieved when Babe shakes his head.

“Okay, then tell me, which way did they go?” Joe asks, scanning the street with dark eyes. He takes the unlit cigarette from his mouth and crushes it between his fingers.

“Joe, leave it,” Babe says, pain exploding across his face with every word. “They're gone anyway.”

Joe grumbles something under his breath, but stays in place. Babe lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, but the blood is still trickling down his lips and splattering on the road in small droplets.

“How about an ambulance, though?” Joe asks, eyeing Babe's bloodied face with a frown.

“No, no, jeez, I'll be fine,” Babe replies. He thinks about standing up to prove his point, but it suddenly seems too complicated, so he doesn't move. “I'll walk home. In a second. Later. I just need a minute.” he waves his hand and hopes he doesn't sound as uncertain as he feels.

“You're not walking anywhere,” George says with a threat in his voice. “Lip's here by car, I'm gonna ask him,” he adds, already walking back towards the bar. The noise from inside is back for a split second, then gone again.

“Please, _please_ , tell me you used at least one left hook,” Joe pokes Babe in the arm, then pats him roughly. Babe snorts and sprays blood everywhere. Joe makes a disgusted sound, but the grip on Babe's shoulder stays tight and reassuring.

“Of course,” Babe grins and then spits out the blood from his mouth. Bill searches his pockets until he finds a single paper tissue and hands it to Babe.

The bleeding from his nose has slowed down to almost nothing by the time the bar's door opens again and George appears, followed by two other people.

“Oh,” Lipton says when he sees Babe, and then, “I'll get the car,” as he hurries down the street.

“What did you do this time, Heffron?” someone asks. It's Eugene's voice, Babe realizes, warm and rough and displeased.

“Um,” Babe begins and has no idea how to continue. He uselessly wipes at his nose with the tissue.

Eugene kneels beside him and suddenly his face is so close, but Babe can't bring himself to meet Eugene's eyes. He keeps his head down instead, and stares at the ground, where drops of his blood are glistening in the orange street lights.

“He saved my ass,” Julian mumbles and kicks the sidewalk with the toe of his Converse. Babe hears Eugene takes a deep breath at the words. Suddenly he wants to laugh like a maniac. He bites his lip to keep silent and tastes more blood.

“Let me take a look,” Eugene says in a soft voice and he touches Babe's left hand, gently prodding his raw knuckles. A moment later Babe feels cold fingers on his jaw and with his heart somewhere in his throat, he lets Eugene lift his head up.

Babe pointedly focuses on a street lamp just above Eugene's shoulder as Eugene traces the line of Babe's aching nose. His touch is sure and soft, and his fingers are cold, but somehow, it sets Babe's skin on fire and Eugene must feel it, _he must_.

“It's not broken,” Eugene says in a low, hushed voice. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Does your head hurt?”

“No,” Babe lies. His head feels too light on his neck, like it's about to float off into the sky and his heart is beating wildly, but he knows it has little to do with the punches he's received.

“Look at me,” Eugene tells him and—Babe does.

Then he feels like he shouldn't have done it, because Eugene is looking straight at him and his eyes are wide and worried and so, so dark and Babe's breath catches somewhere in his chest. He thinks his mouth falls open, but he can't be sure, because his whole body is buzzing, like all his blood has been replaced with soda.

“Follow my finger,” Eugene says and waves it in front of Babe's face. He hums thoughtfully when Babe does. “Good,” he mumbles almost inaudibly. Then a thumb traces his left eyebrow. Babe barely feels it; the skin there is numb and throbbing with dull pain.

It takes Babe a moment to collect his thoughts. “I'm good, Gene. You should go take a look at Julian,” Babe tilts his head to the side, motioning at Julian.

 Eugene doesn't seem to pay any attention to his words as he carefully touches Babe's face. A brush of fingers against his lip, so light Babe thinks he's imagining it, but Eugene's eyes are on his mouth. Then there's a sharp pain and Babe flinches and just like that, Eugene's fingers are gone.

“Sorry, Babe,” Eugene tells him. He's not looking at Babe, though, his eyes are on his own hand—there's a smudge of blood on his fingertips, shining brightly against his skin. Babe opens his mouth to say something, but Eugene takes a deep breath and leans a few inches back. He looks back at Babe, blinks.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Eugene asks, his eyes darting down Babe's body and back up.

“I'm good,” Babe says. He feels like his voice doesn't belong to him.

“Good,” Eugene repeats. “You're gonna be fine,” he adds, his voice just a touch louder than before. He clears his throat, looks back at his bloody hand, then back at Babe. He isn't wearing a jacket, Babe notices.

“Thanks, Gene,” Babe says. Eugene looks at him for a few long seconds before his mouth curls up in a brief, tiny smile that has Babe's heart hammering in his chest.

Babe keeps his eyes on him as Eugene stands up and walks over to Julian, who still looks a bit shaken. Babe feels a twinge of worry in his chest as he watches Julian reply to Eugene's questions.

Lipton shows up just moments later and Bill and Julian squeeze into the back seats. Babe finds himself being pushed into the front seat. There's a hand on his shoulder, squeezing for a second and then suddenly gone. Babe looks up just enough to see Eugene watching him with those dark, wide eyes. Then Eugene closes the door and walks back inside without looking back.

George is speaking to Lip through the open car window, but Babe is suddenly too damn tired to even attempt to understand any of his words. As Lip starts the car, Babe looks outside and nods at Joe and George. There's the same expression on both of their faces, but Babe is pretty sure he couldn't decipher it even with a fully functioning brain, so he doesn't bother guessing at all.

After Lip drops Julian off at his dorm, Babe feels the knot of worry in his stomach loosen a little, but it remains firmly in place. As he watches the streetlights passing by, fragments of the night float through his mind without any order. The worry in Julian's voice. Taste of blood on his tongue. Soft, careful touch of cold hands.

He only snaps out of his dreamlike state when Lip squeezes his shoulder. Babe mutters a low “Thank you,” in Lip's direction and then lets Bill drag him out of the car and home.

Babe barely has enough energy to undress from his dirty clothes and scrub away all the blood under the boiling hot water of the shower. He stands under the stream, looking at his shaking hands, until Bill bangs on the bathroom door and asks if he's still alive.

“Yeah,” Babe shouts back and feels a twinge of pain in his nose. He doesn’t look into the mirror.

He's feeling incredibly cold by the time he leaves the steam-filled bathroom. He flops onto the couch next to Bill and lets himself be wrapped in several layers of blankets. He doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

-

The next day, he wakes up feeling like shit. His nose hurts like hell, he has a huge bruise on his cheek and his knuckles are on fire.

But then George comes over with a box of donuts and Bill lets Babe choose a movie to watch and they throw popcorn at each other, and it doesn't matter all that much.

And then, much later that day, when Babe is lying in bed more than half asleep, his phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number—and then it doesn't matter at all.

 

 

**(+1.5)**

Eugene with cheeks flushed a deep pink, closed eyes and his mouth open around a moan is a sight to behold, so Babe is content to just _look_ until Eugene's breathing evens out and the grip he has on Babe's hair releases just a fraction.

“How...how did you _do that_?” Eugene asks, finally opening his eyes and looking down at Babe kneeling in front of him. His voice is rough and soft at the same time and Babe's heart skips several beats. He's glad he isn't standing because his legs suddenly don't feel very stable.

He traces his fingers up and down Eugene's thighs, presses into the skin just a little bit. Above him, Eugene's breath hitches and Babe looks up again, just to see his face.

“I can teach you,” he says, tightening his grip. Eugene's hand in his hair tugs a bit stronger. Babe grins and squeezes his fingers a little more.

“Yeah. Yeah, alright,” Eugene agrees a bit breathlessly and sinks to his knees. He looks at Babe for a long moment, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, and Babe is fairly certain he has never seen anything so beautiful. He wants to tell Eugene, is about to open his mouth and let all the words out, but then Eugene is pulling him closer and kissing him. Eugene's lips are a little colder than his own but somehow, they still manage to set the whole world on fire. Babe doesn't mind it in the slightest.

(He smiles into the kiss, just because he can.)

 

 

 


End file.
